So I’m at Target with my cart loaded to amazing new heights with 100% “Mom” stuff, what with a couple of big plastic storage bins, two new pillows, carpool snacks, dry erase markers, a few $4 clothing items for the boys, and scads of stuff for work and home stuffed in every crevice of the big red cart. Oh, and my almost-5 year old son sitting up front.
Imagine my surprise when the bored young cashier asks for my date of birth so that I can legally buy – are you ready for this? Robitussin cough medicine.
Naturally, I start to giggle. I haven’t been carded at a bar in ages, let alone Target.
“How old do you have to be to buy Robitussin?” I ask between spurts of muffled laughter.
“12,” she mumbled.
Only in America.